


Ordinary Time

by CeleryThesis



Series: Over Time and Tide [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Happy Birthday Severus Snape, Happy-Snape-Week, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeleryThesis/pseuds/CeleryThesis
Summary: It's just an ordinary day.





	

**October 2025**

**Severus**

 

Her wand went off at six, and she let out the little moaning sigh she did every morning. He had been awake for twenty minutes at least, but he was satisfied to think his thoughts and lie abed for another half hour or so. She rolled out of her side quietly, thinking him asleep and shuffled to the bath. She closed the door quietly before turning on light and shower. He snuggled more tightly under the blankets.

She emerged about fifteen minutes later, her hair pulled into a lose knot on the back of her head. She must not have an appearance before the Wizengamot today; her hair would be far more commanding if she did. She let her towel drop at the bureau, and she pulled on some navy cotton knickers and then started the pulling, twisting, and cursing process that accompanied her putting on her brassiere.

“I see your eyes open, Severus,” she said after both straps were in place.

“Then come on over,” he purred.

She opened the wardrobe, pointedly ignoring him.

“Or don’t,” he turned over on the bed huffily.

She had her robes in her hand as she strode over, poking and tickling him through the blanket. He played dead for a moment and then captured her and pulled her down with him. He kissed her on the mouth and she let him before she stood again and started putting on her robes.

“No time. I have a million things I must do before lunch, and Helen _cannot_ be late again. You do not need to deal with that awful witch in the front office. I _will_ make it up to you, however.” She smiled in that special, tiny way that was only for him.

“Tonight?” he was skeptical. He had heard this before.

“Tonight. As soon as she goes to bed. I promise.”

“I will hold you to it.”

“I will hold myself to it, Darling.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Now get in the shower before you have to face the wrath of Cotton.”

Anise Cotton maintained the attendance book at St. George Primary as if it were a sacred document. She was terrifying. Severus rose from bed and headed for the shower.

A thorough wank had him set to right before he donned his work robes and joined the girls at the breakfast table. Hermione was just finishing the last of her tea and inspecting the contents of Helen’s school bag.

“Do you have everything?” she interrogated Helen.

“Yes, Mum.”

“You need to triple check. Daddy cannot leave work to rescue you; you must make sure your parchments are all here.” This was directed squarely at him. He would leave work in a second to rescue her, and Hermione knew it well. “We need more paint to finish Giles Corey.”

“I know, I’ll pick some up at the shops this afternoon,” he told her.

“Thank you. See you tonight,” she raised her eyebrow slightly at him and brushed her mouth against his rather sensually for a Tuesday. “Goodbye, Sweet Girl. Have a great day. Learn loads. Make sure you have everything.” She kissed the top of Helen’s head, and grabbed her own case as she headed to the floo. “Love you!”

“Love you, Mum.”

“Love you, Darling. Have a good…” She was gone. He took one bite of toast and slammed the rest of his tea. “Go clean your teeth, we have to go.”

“Cotton!” Helen said in a scary voice.

“Indeed. Hurry!”

He did his own inspection of the school bag; everything seemed to be there. He kept a toothbrush and paste in the little bathroom off the potions lab, and he quickly brushed his own teeth. He heard Helen barreling down the stairs. She grabbed her bag and walked into to him.

“Ready?” he asked, and then put his arms around her and apparated them to a desolate alley half a block from their Tube station. She arrived at the gate of St. George’s with five minutes to spare. “See you this afternoon,” he called as she trudged up the sidewalk to the doors of the school. “I’ll be here,” he called again to her back. She put up one hand to wave without turning. He stayed until he saw her through the doors and then began the three-block journey to St. Mungo’s.

His lab robe was hanging in his little space in the staff room, and he pulled it on and reported to his station. He was working on another round of pain potion, this one designed to have fewer side-effects on the stomach. He had recently directed studies on pain potion that helped one sleep and pain potion that didn’t make one drowsy and several other varieties. If someone ever figured out how to avoid pain altogether, he might have to retire.

He put his head down and worked steadily to lunch. He was rather hungry after his paltry breakfast. He picked up his tray in the lunchroom and sat at his usual table with Anabel and Babs. Lunch was a dismal affair as usual; some kind of roasted meat with anemic looking mashed potato, gelatinous gravy, and mushy vegetable.

“How lovely,” he said acidly, as he poked at his food with his fork. “I suppose it would kill someone to produce an edible meal around here.”

“Most likely,” Babs said. “You _could_ pack a lunch, Severus.”

“Free lunch is one of the few benefits of this place,” he answered.

“It’s not a benefit if it makes you miserable, and in turn…us,” Babs said in that particular tone.

“Any progress with Mr. Green, Anabel?” he asked. The assistant healer had noticed a records clerk about six months ago and had been making little progress getting him to notice her.

“Well, since you asked…”

After the lunch half-hour ended, he dumped most of the contents of his tray and returned to his cauldron. He was reasonably productive and felt fine about his work day when it was time to hang up his white robe and collect his daughter.

The afternoon was warm and sunny and probably the last decent day until May. He wished he had time to stop for a pint at an outdoor café, but Helen would be waiting, and day drinking with his nine-year-old probably was not showing stellar judgement.

The children were just pouring out of the school doors when he arrived. He saw no one he knew well enough to have to chat up. Soon, those dark curls were bouncing toward him. Helen’s face was betrayed no emotion.

“Everything good at school?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Did you learn anything new?”

She stopped a moment and seemed to be pondering the question.

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said as if he were something to endure.

They walked quietly to their stop and didn’t have long to wait for their train.

“We need to go to Tesco’s,” he said to explain why they would get off the train one stop ahead of usual.

“Okay,” she sighed deeply.

“I was thinking spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Is there something you’d rather?”

“No.”

The train screeched and they disembarked. He was dearly hoping that Tesco’s would have the paint they needed, and he wouldn’t have to make stops at another place or places.

“Are you sure paint is all you need to finish Giles Corey?”

“Yes.”

She had to make a display for History of Magic. He had suggested that they brew an ancient potion, but she thought that was a terrible idea.

_Everyone is making something, Daddy._

_We would be making something; a potion is something one makes._

_Everyone is making something REAL. Making something with cardboard and paint and cloth. SOMETHING._

Hermione had suggested Giles Corey being pressed, and that had turned out to be the idea. They had found stones in the garden and Helen and Hermione had made a little Giles ragdoll. The only step left was to finish painting the cardboard box with one side removed that Giles would lie in. Snape wondered about parental involvement with homework. In his day…

But of course, homework had been the main feature of family life in the Granger household, so he didn’t even have an ally.

The store was packed because how could it not be on a day he would rather be home already.

“See if you can find the paint, and I’ll meet you,” he said to Helen, and pulled a trolley. He had shopped there often enough to know where everything was food wise, but he was unsure about art supplies. He filled the trolley with ingredients for a salad for tonight and broccoli for tomorrow’s dinner. He added a fresh loaf of French bread and couldn’t decide between two equally lovely bottles of red wine, so he put them both in. A whole chicken for tomorrow; mince for tonight. He put in a package of pasta and went to find Helen, who was in a distressed state by the school supplies.

“They do have paint, but no grey,” she said with great concern.

“They have black and white; we can make grey,” he put the two little pots in the trolley.

“Will that work?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive.”

She sighed in great relief, and they pushed the trolley to the till.

They walked the extra blocks with the packages; when the weather was decent it must be acknowledged. They arrived home about half a block before whining would have begun about long walks and heavy burdens. They put the shopping on the kitchen table.

“Let’s change and then will start homework.”

“I don’t need to change.”

“Paint, Helen, let’s go.” He led the way.

“Charms should clean it up.”

“Muggle paint and charms don’t always go.”

Deep, long, sigh.

He closed the door to his bedroom and started shucking his work clothes, determining what to hang and what to put in the hamper. He chose some charcoal denims and a tightish black v-neck, hoping to look his best. He even changed into some black boxer briefs that might be slightly more alluring than the grey cotton boxers he had worn all day.

Helen had changed out of her school robes into a Chudley Cannons jersey and shorts that probably should have been put up for the season a month ago. He kept his mouth shut about it.

“Any other homework besides Giles?” he asked as they were descending the stairs again.

“No.”

“Good, we have time for some long division.”

“Ugh, Dad, Nooooooooo. I hate long division.”

“Long division is essential to brewing potions.” _What on earth are they teaching at that…school?_ “And cooking,” he added.

He pulled a workbook he had ordered and a pencil from a big drawer in the kitchen they used for a variety of items. “Just follow the steps. It makes perfect sense.”

He started putting up the food and then gathering what he would need to make meatballs.

“Mum has a calculator on her phone that would do this in seconds,” Helen grumbled.

“There are no calculators and no phones at Hogwarts.”

“That’s stupid,” she declared. “How will I talk to you and Mum when I am there?”

“We’ll write letters.”

“That takes forever!”

“It doesn’t really, and it’s a lovely way to stay in touch.”

“Ugh!”

He looked over her shoulder. “You have to bring down that eight.”

She continued to make disgusted noises as he uncorked one of the wine bottles. He poured himself a rather generous glass and took a sip. _Merlin, that’s heaven._ He tried not to groan out loud.

He removed his wedding ring and cracked an egg into the mince. He added some fresh herbs from a pot by the window, some bread crumbs, and salt and pepper. He worked the mixture gently with his hands and started forming it into balls. He washed his hands and put his ring back on. With his wand, he lit the fire under the burner and grabbed a large skillet and a large sauce pan for the tomato. Olive oil in both, a little minced garlic and crushed red pepper for the sauce. The kitchen was immediately transported to Italy.

“That smells good,” Helen said. High praise. “I’m finished.”

“Give me just a moment.” He poured some of the wine into the pan with garlic and pepper. The meatballs started sizzling in the skillet.

He walked over to the table to peer over Helen’s shoulder again. “Nine are correct; one is incorrect.”

“Which one?”

“Find it,” he teased her, and she growled. “Calm down. It’s number four. Go over the steps.”

Helen studied the problem for a minute. “Ugh, I’m so stupid,” she rubbed out the numbers and started reworking.

“Not stupid, just careless.”

“Now can I finish Giles?”

She handed him her corrected paper.

“Yes. Be careful mixing the paint. You just need a few drops of the black.” He found a suitable dish for the paint while she retrieved the brushes. She had already painted most of the background various shades of brown, but she had wanted grey for little touches here and there.

“Can we have music?”

“Of course. How about some Elvis Costello?”

“How about ‘Hungry like the Wolf’?”

“Really? Duran Duran again?” Naturally, she had fallen in love with the music that had been released just as he was starting to give British pop the side eye.

“Please, Daddy?”

“If we must. Duran Duran.” He scrolled through his collection with his wand and landed on the right section.

“There are only three chords in these songs if you would ever like to learn to play them. It shouldn’t be much of a challenge,” he said but she was painting intently and not paying a bit of attention to him. She was singing along quietly.

He added the tomato, crushed and sauce, to the pan and turned the meatballs again. They were close to being ready to be added to the sauce as well. He filled a very large pot with water for the pasta, then added the meatballs to the sauce, then started on the salad. The Floo crackled, and Hermione walked through.

“Smells amaaaaazing in here. I’m starving!”

“Hello, Darling, how was work?” he poured her a glass of wine.

“It was work. It is over,” she said, kissed him on the mouth, and took her wine. “Could we go ahead and put her to bed?” she whispered right in his ear with a sly grin. “Oh, this is lovely,” she said aloud after she took a drink. She shifted her attention to their daughter. “Helen, it’s looking very good. Almost finished?”

“Yeah. They didn’t have grey paint at the store, but Daddy said to mix white with a little black and it WORKED!”

“Daddy _is_ a genius,” Hermione said with a grin.

He smiled despite the inane nature of this conversation. He mixed some salad dressing in a glass jar. “Helen, I think it’s time to declare your masterpiece complete. It can dry for a day, and then we’ll affix Giles and the stones tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” she said and put down the paint brush.

Hermione moved the box to the potions table in the adjoining room. “Rinse out your paint container and brush but be careful in the sink.”

Helen did what she was told as Hermione wiped down the table and started getting out plates and utensils for dinner before going upstairs to change. Severus lit the kettle for the tea and added the spaghetti in the pot. When Hermione returned in a skirt and t-shirt with a low v-neck, much to his approval, they were ready to sit at the table.

“Thank you so much, Severus, this looks delicious.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Well, all right, let’s eat.”

“We left off yesterday discussing chapter five of _The_ _Hobbit_ ,” Hermione said as she was buttering a piece of the bread. Snape and Helen shot each other a look. Hermione was by far the most enthusiastic reader of _The_ _Hobbit_. They faked their way through that night’s discussion. Helen didn’t really have an excuse as Hermione read it aloud to her every night.

At the end of dinner, Hermione shooed them into the sitting room so they could watch football highlights, and she could do the washing up without them underfoot. Soon it was time for Helen’s bath, book, and bed.

She was far too old to need any help with bath, thank you very much. Severus and Hermione retreated to the office where she checked emails and he quidditch scores. They finally heard her emerge from the bath and pad across the hall to her room.

“One chapter,” he said.

“One chapter,” she assured him.

“Nox,” he whispered and the office light went out. He stopped by Helen’s room to say good night. She pulled him down for her customary kiss on the nose. He tucked her damp curls behind her ears and breathed in her lovely bathy smell before he kissed both cheeks. “Good night, Sweet Girl.”

“Good night, Daddy. Thanks for the paint.”

He returned to their bedroom and cleaned his teeth, and then waited for her on the bed, trying not to fall asleep. After what seemed hours, she finally emerged.

“Is she asleep?”

“She will be soon,” Hermione had quite the little smirk. “You, sir, have had me in quite a state today.”

“Have I really?”

“Oh, yes. The condition of my knickers is rather shameful.”

“I don’t believe it.”

She reached under her skirt and pushed them down and then tossed them at him. It was the same pair he had seen her put on that morning. They were indeed in quite a state.

“Come here, witch.”

She crawled across the bed and straddled him. He kissed her the same time he was pulling off her t-shirt. Her skirt had ridden up to her hips, and her naked quim was right at the placket of his trousers. He reached behind her to unclasp her bra.

“They look better with it on,” she said into his mouth.

“That’s utter nonsense,” he threw it across the room to make his point. “I’ve been thinking about them all day, just like this.” He took one in each palm and his cock reached a level of pain straining against his trousers. “Scoot up,” he nudged her, and she rose on her knees. She was unbuttoning him and shoving down the trousers, and in a second they were twisted in denim and boxer briefs and skirt, and they retreated to their corners to fully disrobe before meeting in the middle of the bed again.

“I liked that, before,” she said, straddling him again.

“Yes? Like this?” He lifted her arse so she was suspended over his cock, and she sank down slowly. She took his glasses off and laid them on the table at his side, so practical. He kept his hand on her arse and lifted her up and down. Her tits were bouncing against his chest, and the angle of penetration was really doing it for him. This was not going to be a long show if they kept it up. He lay back and allowed himself to breathe and calm down for a moment. The he clasped her in his arms and turned them over.

He entered her again and took one of her breasts into his hand and then mouth and ran his tongue all over the areola, sucking her nipple and making her moan very quietly.

They did not cast silencing charms when Helen was in the house, but they were used to keeping it down.

“Don’t stop, please. That feeeeeels…..Oh Severus.”

“You like that?”

“Yesssss.”

He repeated his actions on the other breast. She brought her hand down to her clitoris, and he licked his fingers and then replaced her hand with his. He started thrusting harder and rubbing circles on her in a counter rhythm to his thrusts, and he felt her start to come. “Yes, Darling, come on me right now.”

She did, and he did, too. Then she took his head in her hands and was kissing him tenderly, but still with fire, so he left his hand on her and moved his mouth down slowly from her mouth to her neck to her shoulder to her clavicle to her breast to her belly to her mons to home.

“That one was soooooo good, Severus, you really don’t have to…”

He took her clitoris and its immediate area in his mouth and sucked, with his tongue right in the center.

“Jesus Christ Severus FUCK!” she said too loudly and then clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes!” she whispered.

He slowed down, teasing her, running his tongue everywhere but the very spot she wanted it. He made her wait whole seconds before he resumed serious business.

“Oh please, yes, Severus, please!” she moaned as he went in for the final act. She practically took him off the bed when she came that time, and he couldn’t help but to grin at a job well done.

“Oh, Darling,” she panted as he made his way up, opening his arm for her to nestle in.

“Yes, that was something.”

“That was amaaaaazing. I’m such a lucky girl.”

“I am the lucky one.”

The lights were low but still on, and she reached for a novel that was on her bedside table.

“No work tonight?” he asked, quite pleased that it seemed to be the case.

“No work. I want to read but will probably be asleep in minutes.”

“I must confess I am three chapters behind in the _Hobbit_ ,” he said as he reached for the tome.

“No, really? I never would have guessed.”

“Sorry, Darling.”

She put her chin up and kissed him before settling in with her book.


End file.
